


Reminders

by we_dreamerz



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Endgame, sexual healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:26:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_dreamerz/pseuds/we_dreamerz
Summary: Intimate thoughts and a vulnerable moment.





	Reminders

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on Armies moving close today. (My Loki/Natasha fic if anyone is interested.) It's been a little neglected and I've had a couple of people ask about it. But I had to get this thought out of my head while it was hopping. Possibly influenced by my own, similar obsession. I hope you enjoy the little slice of Starker.

[](https://imgur.com/T8lYOC4)

Tony Stark is a commodity, bought and sold, traded and picked apart. People talk about his money, his smile, his ass, his penchant for drama. But for me? It's always been his hands.

Despite his bottomless closet full of designer suits, his fancy cars, and high rise penthouse, Tony has the hands of a mechanic. Calloused, scuffed and bruised, Tony's hands are strong and solid with thick fingers and neatly trimmed, square nails. Unassuming maybe, but not to me. 

Over the years Tony's hands have meant many things - support, encouragement, comfort, passion, a buoy in the worst of storms. In Tony’s hands, I am always safe. They lift me up, hold me steady and push me when I can’t let go.

In the dead of night when he’s in the throes of panic, he reaches out to me, pulls me close. I hold him until he can breathe again; his fingers tangle with mine. He touches me, maps my skin like he’s committing me to memory. Then he loves me with a ferocity he saves only for these moments, driven to prove himself, remind himself that I am alive and safe. He sucks kisses on my neck, presses fingerprints into my hips as he drives us to oblivion. 

“Reminders,” he whispers into my hair as we lay tangled up and sticky. “I can see them, at least for a little while, and remember that you’re real, you’re here and you’re mine.”

As I drift off to sleep again, Tony’s hand is an anchor on my hip, my own reminder that I am safe. I am loved. I am Tony’s.


End file.
